


Empty

by avoidingavoidance



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, M/M, children shouldn't play with dead things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2013-11-25
Packaged: 2018-01-02 16:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avoidingavoidance/pseuds/avoidingavoidance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean’s losing it a little bit. He can’t deal with these spaces that used to be filled with warm smiles and dark eyes and loud, carefree laughs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Empty

**Author's Note:**

> Another retoast from my Tumblr because crossposting

Jean can’t help but feel like the spaces between his fingers are too wide.

He’s been frenzied since Trost. Unstoppable. Manic, even. His comrades glance at him out of the corners of their eyes and wonder at the fire coming from inside of him. It looks an awful lot like the dead look Mikasa had just before she sank into a blacked-out, battle-frenzy, just before she’d almost gotten herself killed.

This is basically the same.

Except the only person who could ever talk Jean down from shitty feelings like this is gone.

Jean chokes.

He clenches his fists and stares down at the mutilated titan corpse he’s been standing on for a while. Hot tears burn his eyes and his throat struggles to swallow that all-encompassing thought.

A sob heaves from his chest and he falls to his knees, pummeling the shit out of the already dead, bloody, messy lump he’s been using as a punching bag.

No one’s there to stop him, and he’s almost glad for it.

Until he remembers that no one’s there to stop him.

Jean screams and punches and gags and sobs and his fists slip on the hot tears spilling down from his face.

His fists sink deeper and deeper into pale white flesh, the muscles starting to give way to putrid insides; the thing has long since cooled, foul smoke a distant memory burned into his nostrils.

The gaps between his fingers are too wide; tan, freckled, rough fingers used to fit there perfectly.

His fingers penetrate the titan’s abdomen. Jean feels like he’s choking.

Cold blood meets cold hands and Jean swears there used to be _life_ in his extremities.

It’s not enough, he decides, almost desperate to unleash this boiling rage inside of himself; this frustration, anger, loneliness, despair.

He stares at his hands. The spaces between his fingers are like gaping voids, sucking in what tiny amount of happiness this shitty world had left him. His knees tremble. One slips deep into the chasm Jean had inflicted upon this disgusting corpse, a shallow dip compared to the rifts opening in his psyche. He rolls to the side, unbalanced by the pliant goo under his knee. The ground meets him with a thud, and the world spins for just a while longer.

Jean can’t bring himself to stop the motion. He stares at the darkening sky, short gasps punctuating wordless sobs, more tears than he’s ever had rolling down the sides of his face, into his ears, moistening his hair.

He stays like this for hours, digging his fingers into the grass to try and fill the void.

This is the last time Jean cries. His hands never stop searching.

But they never find anything, either.

**Author's Note:**

> *uglycry*


End file.
